


Phantom of the Lab

by LetMeBeHoney



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, BDSM, F/F, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, Master/Slave, Porn With Plot, Smut, Strap-Ons, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 06:48:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17862383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeBeHoney/pseuds/LetMeBeHoney
Summary: When a reclusive, disgraced geneticist forces herself into hiding, and a promising young doctor catches her eye, what can an egotistic genius do to profess her love? Provide all her knowledge to her beloved, elevating her to fame and success, but not without the price of complete love and devotion.Overwatch but it's a Phantom of the Opera AU.





	1. 0

_“I was fortunate enough to have a conversation with doctor Angela Ziegler on a cool afternoon in March of this year, 1924. We met to discuss the much anticipated release of her new book, Transformative Analysis of Medical Field Agents, a novel about the physical and mental changes experienced by the doctors and nurses during wartime efforts. A veteran medic, serving in the Great War from start to finish, Miss Ziegler provides a unique perspective. Joining medical efforts at the young age of 24, she paved the way and defied expectations for all female doctors in our time. She was quite the child prodigy, and-“_

“You said Angela Ziegler?” Amelie interrupted, her frozen posture itself disrupting her daughter’s breakfast, a hand with a spoon of sweet potatoes hung in midair as the hungry infant desperately reached forward.

Gerard peeked over his newspaper, cigar wobbling in his mouth. “Yes, darling, why?” His baritone voice stung Amelie’s ears. She sighed and looked down before dragging her eyes back up to force a warm smile at her daughter.

“No reason, it’s… nice to hear a woman’s name in the paper, important enough to be interviewed and end up on the front page. It’s a nice example for Lilien, don’t you think?”

Gerard mumbled an acknowledgement and shrugged, straightening his paper back out in his lap. _“She was quite the child prodigy, and even after retiring she has continuously shown us her talents refuse to fade._

_OXTON: Thank you, Dr. Ziegler, for joining me today._

_ZIEGLER: Thank you for having me._

_OXTON: Right, to start off, how does it feel to be internationally recognized as a pioneer for so many causes, like medical education, women’s representation in war and medicine, etc?_

_ZIEGLER: Well it’s a lot of responsibility (laughs). I personally don’t feel quite deserving of such attention when I am far from the only woman or doctor on the battlefield, my colleagues deserve just as much recognition and praise as I do. Without a combined effort, nothing would be successful. Though I will admit, there is a sort of mental rush to receiving all this love. That’s a bit egotistical isn’t it? (laughs)_

_OXTON: Rightly deserved egotism, if I say so! I mean on the surface you’re any other child prodigy, showed promise in biological science as a child, got accepted into a major university while still in high school, and already a leading doctor in the biggest war the world has ever seen. Yet, despite all this, you continue to show remarkable talent in a variety of fields with seemingly no explanation._

_ZIEGLER: You’re too kind._

_OXTON: I mean it! My personal biggest quandary is your knack for genetics, physics and chemistry. I mean, all doctors must know about them to some degree, but your know-how seems to be that of a trained expert! Tell us, Dr. Ziegler, how do you do it?_

_ZIEGLER: I’ve had a very marvelous teacher since I was very young, about 19 I believe._

_OXTON: Well we must know then who the great teacher of the greatest doctor in the world is!_

_ZIEGLER: (laughs) Ah, I… I don’t know._

_OXTON: You don’t know?_

_ZIEGLER: I don’t know who they are, nor their name or face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrow ;^)
> 
> chapter 1 will be coming real soon! it's 75% done but i am so horribly tired. this just serves as a lil info dump and intro tbqh, idk man.
> 
> also! a few things/warnings that i wanna make sure are known! some of these may be considered spoilers but i just want people to know what to expect in case it makes them uncomfortable.  
> -this is set in the 1920s  
> -by "the great war" i mean world war 1, world war 2 hasnt happened yet and at that time "the great war" was the name for it  
> -amelie does deal with compulsory heterosexuality and verbal abuse, and cheating does occur  
> -moicy have a very bdsm master/slave relationship  
> -ofc mercy is christine and moira is phantom, but amelie is also supposed to be raoul


	2. 1

“Dr. Ziegler, you have a visitor.”

Angela looked up hurriedly from her desk, eyes raw and foggy from hours spent hunched over document after document. The simple motion of raising her head sent a crack through her spine which echoed through the messy office.

“I have no appointments today, Brigitte,” she snarled.

“Y-You do, though, doctor. I told you three days ago that a personal appointment was requested, and you… you granted it,” the young assistant mumbled, her voice seeming to raise with each word.

Angela heaved, “…Alright. Send them in, dear.”

“I can show you the approval document you signed on Fri-“

“I said it’s fine, Brigitte,” the doctor offered a reassuring smile, one that Brigitte so easily always bought.

The woman who stepped into the room was surrounded by the scents of rose and sweet powder, the latter Angela quickly recognized as baby powder. For such a strong auditory entrance, the sound of sharp heels against a marble floor rattling the walls, the gentle and comforting smell of baby powder through Angela off. To this, she stood from her desk and rubbed her eyes, unsure if exhaustion was causing her to hallucinate the old friend standing before her. The old friend who, at one time, was more than so.

“Amelie,” the doctor mused, a gentle yet excited grin spreading across her cheeks. She side stepped the desk, only just barely missing the painful corner, to nearly run into Amelie, pulling her into a fond embrace.

“Angela, darling,” Amelie returned, wrapping her arms around the shorter woman’s waist. “I’ve missed you so.”

As Angela stood back, she grasped Amelie’s hands in her own, holding them between the two like a child holding her cherished toy. She looked the same as when she left, Angela thought, long dark hair reaching her back that curled up at the ends, soft golden eyes like honey against her linen skin. Angela had never understood why the other children frequently made fun of her “monster eyes,” or as the adults had referred to it, harsh looks. She was always gentle in her eyes.

“I see you staring at me, Angie,” Amelie giggled, hiding her smile behind a barely clenched fist. “Boarding school and a child haven’t changed my face too much, have they?”

The doctor shook her head delightedly, “Not as much as years of university and war have changed mine.”

Amelie touched her cheek, the pad of skin against her pointer finger lovingly caressing Angela’s face. “I see one wrinkle, Angela, you’re fine. What’s this though? I see a grey hair, oh! Another, Angela, I see another grey hair, and another, and another… Angela you have four whole grey hairs atop your lovely blonde locks! That’s unacceptable, grandma,” she teased, the two women’s laughter reverberating throughout the room.

“I’m the grandma!? You’re the one with a child, you’re literally one step away from the granny life,” Angela’s grin softened, their laughter dying down as they took in each others’ presence. “A child, though? When did that happen, Amelie? Thought you were always too scared of being tied down.”

Amelie huffed, shrugging with a pout. “That’s not what my parents wanted. They found me a husband, a nice man from the army, and then he found us a daughter. Thought I’d never see you again so I sort of let it all happen…”

“Found,” Angela chuckled, “Life sure found you, didn’t it?”

The taller woman sighed again. “She’s only a year old, and I love her to death. I would give anything to protect my daughter but, Gerard… well, don’t all wives need a break sometimes?”

“Only if they have husbands,” Angela remarked under her breath, a playful shove greeting her shoulder from Amelie.

“Come with me,” Amelie said with a tone of wonder to her song-like voice. “A night on the town, or an afternoon lunch with tea, or maybe I can even show you our summer home.”

Reluctantly, Angela finally let go of Amelie’s hands. Flashes of their youth flew through her mind, like the hot summer days of childhood when they pretended to be wives with a selection of children made up of old baby dolls and rocks alike. When they were just barely teenagers and kissed under the moonlight in a manner so cliche and storybook-like that they both burst into laughter. The time they were sixteen and exchanged shy gazes and touches. Times were different, now, and the sound of Amelie still apparently very much invested in old promises bore a hole in the doctor’s heart. She loved her friend, of course, but by this point they hadn’t seen or heard from one another in eighteen years. She found it hard to ignore the sense of being watched by the spirit who had captivated her so deeply with her words of both affection and wisdom. Angela shifted anxiously in her spot, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Amelie.

“I… I can’t, Amelie. I may be retired from field medic work, but I still have lots to do. I’m in the middle of a publishing tour, I’m writing medical reports, I just… I can’t.”

Amelie’s sad smile somehow managed to still twinkle with hope. “Another time, then.”

* * *

The two women talked for hours on end, Amelie progressively moving her body closer and closer to Angela’s as the two sat on the doctor’s old chestnut leather couch, and the doctor didn’t move away. She found herself liking Amelie’s physicality and warmth, the stark opposite of the cold and distant voice she depended so much upon. After the frenchwoman left, exchanging numerous hugs and kisses upon kisses on the doctor’s cheeks, Angela was alone once again. Or rather, almost alone, if not for the commanding voice that came from her walls every night.

“Insolent girl,” the voice snarled, a chill running down Angela’s spine.

“M-Master, I apologize for arguing but Amelie is a sweet girl, I promise,” the short doctor pleaded, looking desperately around from wall to wall.

“She selfishly takes you from your duties to ‘catch up’ under the guise of a professional appointment. I’m disgusted with her behavior,” the voice scoffed, her attitude callous, and yet Angela was in the palm of her hand.

“You’re right, Master…”

“Please,” behind Angela, a panel in the wall slid open, the panel containing her floor length mirror. Every syllable and sound of the single word became clearer and clearer, startling Angela into a halt. Her eyes felt glued to her desk, too terrified to look behind her, the draft of the cold hallway behind the mirror tickling the back of her neck. “Call me Moira, my darling.”

The Swiss woman forced the heels of her mary jane shoes to turn, the agonizingly slow movement being a hard scratch that would leave a mark on her office floor to serve as an eternal reminder. Standing in the doorway was both the most beautiful and intimidating creature she had ever laid eyes on. She stood six feet tall, dressed in an elegant royal plum tuxedo complete with white silk gloves. The only skin to be seen by the naked eye was half of her face, the other half being covered by a porcelain white mask with traditional Celtic carvings decorating its surface. Her sharp features both frightened and enchanted Angela, who took another step forward in daring curiosity and excitement.

“It’s about time I told you my name, hm?” The woman’s Irish drawl seemed to lift Angela off into another world, as if it didn’t always usually, but without the barrier of a thick wall between to muffle her voice, she commanded even more power and dominance with just a simple hum.

“Moira,” Angela murmured, her absentminded steps taking her closer and closer to her master of so many years, and before she knew it she was standing right before said woman, their height difference seeming even more exaggerated.

“I’ll admit, my darling, seeing you so close and personal with that French girl made me a little jealous,” Moira chuckled sarcastically, cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. “That’s not allowed; I shouldn’t be so jealous when we both know you belong to me, what do I have to worry about?”

“Nothing!” Angela piped up eagerly, fervently ready and willing to please the older woman.

“Good girl,” the older woman rewarded with a light pat of Angela’s flaxen hair, her gaunt, silk covered hand dragging down to her chin, tilting Angela’s face up to meet her’s. She kissed her gently, at first, years and years of admiration and devotion to each other boiling over in this moment. Angela’s hands came delicately up to rest upon Moira’s cheeks, wanting to pull her in closer, but the moment her skin touched the porcelain of the mask, the older woman harshly pulled away. The doctor felt hurt and confusion, leaning forward again as if to ask why she stopped kissing her, and just as wise as always, Moira knew this and answered her.

“Follow me,” she said with a smirk, turning back into the catacombs behind the mirror, holding a hand out for Angela to grasp.

Moira led her down numerous long hallways and dozens of steep, spiraling staircases, all of them remarkably clean and well kept for seeming to have been there for decades. Angela could only assume Moira had been diligently keeping them pristine, a thought which she blushed in adoration at. When they finally reached a rather grand in size but plain in appearance stone door, Moira pushed it open with a rough shove, for a brief moment the outline of her toned biceps appearing beneath her suit. Angela was lead through a room covered head to toe in beakers and note books, strewn about lab coats and stacks upon stacks of every piece of media that Angela and her accomplishments had ever been mentioned in. It warmed her cheeks greatly. Pushing past evidence of her genius, Moira lead Angela into a grand, luxurious bedroom in multiple shades of gold and red velvet.

“You still like velvet, don’t you?” Moira purred, letting go of Angela’s hand to let her gawk at the environment while she in turn took strides to her oak writing desk.

“This is marvelous, I’m-“ before she could continue her awe-struck complimenting, a thick strip of black velvet was tied around her head, completely covering her vision.

Moira snickered to herself as she tightened the fabric against Angela’s head, the cute stumbling of the smaller woman bringing a blush of her own to her face. Angela scrambled around for a few seconds in confused delight before feeling herself pushed harshly onto the bed, a nimble but piercing hand holding her down in place by the back of her head. She heard the sound of something hard and smooth being dropped onto the floor beside them, followed by the rustling of fabric, and it didn’t take her long to figure out an explanation for all the sounds when she felt Moira descend upon her yet again, sucking and biting on the nape of her neck as she tore the doctor’s clothes from her body.

“You rush,” Angela giggled, a hint of nervousness in her throat. “You teach me everything I know for fifteen years without ever letting me actually meet you, and the first thing you do after showing your face is…” she trailed off, unsure of both exactly how to say the crude idea she was thinking, and of what exactly Moira planned on doing.

“Fuck you? The first thing I do is fuck you?” Moira used her low, rumble of a laugh, now clear as day and floating through Angela’s ears, to unnerve the smaller woman to great affect. “You have no,” she threw Angela’s blouse so hard it hit the wall, “idea,” the sharp and nauseating sound of her skirt being ripped rang through, “how much I’ve wanted to ravish you.”

Angela timidly helped her with moving the useless clothing to the side, albeit blindfolded still, and once she lay on the bed nearly bare except for her undergarments, she could finally feel Moira’s skin against her own as the spirit straddled the back of her thighs. The woman felt as lanky as she looked, the bones beneath her skin digging uncomfortably into Angela as she caressed and kissed her, but she was soft as well, tender skin contrasting with her otherwise hard personality. It all began to feel like a dream to Angela now, everything moving faster than her comprehension. For the next thing she knew, she was bent over and seated in Moira’s lap, her arms shaking so hard from the anticipation that she struggled to not collapse into her former position of burying her face in the velvet. She felt like a dog sitting there, like Moira’s pet, waiting patiently to be told what to do and when, until the older woman pushed the two up onto both their knees and plunged her fingers down Angela’s underwear. Moira hunched over her back, gathering one arm around Angela’s waist to pull them as close together as possible while the other hand worked on the doctor’s clit. Is was disorienting, to one moment have Moira gentle and accommodating, and the next brutal and commanding. The arm wrapped tightly around her waist told her angrily to stay in place, which she would oblige anyway, but the fingers touching her clit were slow and methodical, as if asking her if she felt good instead of knowing. It was like Moira couldn’t make up her mind, and in truth, she couldn’t.

“Do you remember the time,” Moira whispered into her ear, her sultry voice and breath making Angela sweat. “I explained to you how exactly to touch yourself?”

Angela nodded weakly, Moira’s finger rubbing small circles into the nub of her clit distracting her too much for words. “Mmn… uhm-hm…”

“And you were so… so sad… that I couldn’t give you a demonstration? What were you then, must’ve been around 20, hm? So frustrated and alone with all your studies, not yet the woman I’ve made you into today.” Involuntarily, like an instinct awakened, Moira thrust her hips lightly against Angela’s, the action drawing a small mewl of surprise and want from the blonde.

“Please… Master, please, fuck me,” Angela moaned out, desperation in her voice.

“Patience, darling,” her master replied teasingly, slipping two fingers inside the younger. She curled her fingers inside the other woman, as if telling her inevitable orgasm to come hither. The bottom of the palm of her hand moved to continue stimulating her clit, pushing against it in response to each movement of her fingers. Angela’s body, practically vibrating now, ground hungrily against Moira’s, trying to find a way to force Moira’s fingers to fuck her harder. While the older woman saw through to what she was doing, and indirectly asking for, she kept at her agonizingly relaxed pace, only gradually intensifying her movements.

Angela had always been flustered by how sensitive her body is, the idea of someone having such effortless control over her frustrating the doctor to no end. It was embarrassing for her, how despite painstakingly taking her sweet time with the speed at which she ramped up her movements within Angela, Moira had her moaning and trembling without breaking a sweat. Of course the older woman was getting hot and bothered herself, but she maintained a cool and confident aura that Angela deemed unfathomable and uncrackable… until she wasn’t. In the heat of the moment, Angela riding Moira’s fingers through her orgasm, she dipped her head down, chin touching the top of her chest as she tried (and failed) to stable her breathing. She was lightheaded, high on the feeling of touch, until something shattered her lack of attention, bringing her fully back to her senses. Her blindfold had loosened, Moira not having the heart to have tightened it so hard it would hurt her, and in the small sliver of vision she was awarded at the bottom, she saw a glimpse of her lover’s hand still buried in her underwear. The hand was haggard, almost skeletal, and a shade of rich pastel lavender tinted her skin, royal purple veins popping out vibrantly from beneath. Her skin seemed translucent, for beneath the violet hues, Angela swore she saw nerves and muscle, maybe even blood flowing solemnly. Her error, though, was how long she gawked at her phantom, and it wasn’t long until Moira realized she wasn’t just frozen in a climax haze.

Angrily, Moira shoved the Swiss woman away, pushing her face first into the velvet of the bedding and rising from her position in one swift motion. Angela cowered in fear, too scared to fully take off her blindfold, and the irritated sounds of Moira digging through multiple drawers in her room rang in her ears like gunshots. The older woman furrowed her brow in frustration, glancing back every few seconds to look at Angela in both annoyance and adoration.

“You never,” Angela’s mouse-like voice cut through like a knife, “you never fucked me.”

“Would you not call what just happened sex?” Moira replied flatly, clicking her tongue in satisfaction as she finally found her goal in one of the drawers of her dresser, buried deep beneath layers of bedding and fabric.

“It was, but, you talk a big game, you always have,” the doctor played with her hair absentmindedly, careful to not move so much that the blindfold would slip down her face.

Moira huffed sarcastically, stripping the makeshift piece of fabric she called a bra off her chest, followed by her own underwear. “I’m not done yet.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, I’m not done yet,” she asserted, sliding the harness around her hips and thighs, smiling to herself at Angela’s absolute unknowing.


End file.
